Holes in the Cloth of time
by ChaosOfTheUniverce
Summary: story of a girl who accidentally falls into a secret time port into the past. namely, the time of the phantom of the opera. please read and review.
1. Of a Popcorn and Rain and Howling Dogs

I sniffed, and let out a short, stuttery sigh. Reaching out my left hand, I scrabbled about inside a Kleenex box. There was

only one left. I wiped my streaming eyes on the remaining Kleenex, then dropped it into the already overflowing trash can on

my right, all without tearing my attention away from the 2004 version of "The Phantom of the Opera". Before my rapt eyes,

Christine and Raoul poled away in the Phantom's boat, singing a soft duet. Eric, his now unmasked face a picture of tragedy

and sorrow, reached out for an ornate candelabra. I felt my heart clench with pain on his behalf as he raised the ill-fated

candelabra above his head and swung it into the even-more-ill-fated mirror with a heart-wrenching, ear-splitting - BOOM!

The unexpected clap of thunder startled me so much I jumped, launching my bowl of heavily-salted popcorn off of my knees and

across the room, and accidentally hitting overflowing trashcan full of Kleenex with my flailing foot, and knocking it onto

it's side. I ran past the popcorn bowl (which, upon landing on the floor, unfortunately had smashed,) to the window behind

it. Upon pulling back the drapes, I was shocked to discover that lightning was crackling against the sky, thunder was booming,

and rain was lashing at the windows. All in all, it was a very Phantomy environment. But now was hardly a good time to admire

the Phantomy-ness of the night. There were only a few minutes left of the movie, and then I would have the rest of the night

to admire the rain. I turned back to the television just in time to see Eric's eyes fill up with tears. Then the entire

house was flooded with darkness. I rolled my eyes and groaned. Just what I needed: a power outage. A branch must have fallen

on the power lines, or something. I began picking my way across the floor, giving a wide berth to the area where I thought

the smashed bowl might be. 'Well, it could've been worse,' I thought, trying to ignore the thunder (nearly impossible). 'At

least the dogs aren't here to try and eat the popcorn, and wind up eating the glass instead. Thank God I put them outside!'

I stopped dead. 'Oh God. I put the dogs outside.' And, in my side yard, in the dark and the thunder and the lightning and the

rain, two dogs began to howl. 


	2. Of Phantoms and Dogs and Washing Machine

"I really don't believe this," I muttered, striding down the stairs as I buttened up my long, black, wool coat. The dogs continued to howl as I rushed down the two flights of stairs it took to reach my basement.

We had fenced in the side yard to let the dogs run around in. Unfortunately, that fenced in portion of the yard could be reached by one door, and one door only. That one and only door was located on the landing of the flight of stairs that lead to my basement.

The image of Erik's tear-streaked, and to be honest, slightly mad-looking face, still burned clearly in my mind. No matter how much I respected and worshiped Erik, he still made me nervous. And while it was preposterous to think that Erik was lurking about in the basement, or sulking around in the dark outside the door, it was such a creepy possibility I simply couldn't dismiss it from my mind.

Descending from the last rickety step, I tugged my coat a bit tighter around my body. Being down here was creepy, even on the sunniest of days. You always felt like someone was watching you. That unpleasent sensation spurred me into motion, eager to escape from the celler as soon as possible. I opened the side door, and was immediately drenched in a swirling wind of rain, and enthusiastically greeted by two dogs who were VERY happy to be let inside. Foxy, the smaller of the two dogs, came in first. I reeled backwards to save my coat from her muddy little paws, and found myself teetering on the edge of the basement stairs. Before I could catch my balance, Max came charging in.

Now Max is a big dog. I mean, I'm 5'2" and he comes up to my hips. He's got a heart big enough to build a city in, but he's not exactly the sharpest staple in the gun, if you get my drift. So when he saw me teetering on the edge of the basement stairs, he joyfully wagged his tail and barreled straight at me. Apparently, he was intent on showing me his gratitude at being let inside by knocking me down and slobbering all over my face. That little puppy didn't just knock me down, though. Did he settle for knocking me down half a flight of basement stairs? 'fraid not. No, he sent me sailing OVER half a flight of stairs, going head over heels for the out-of-order washing machine in the corner.

Let me tell you now, this is no ordinary washer. Three years ago, Mom went downstairs to to a load of laundry, and found she couldn't open the washer. So she called Dad, who assembled an army of screwdrivers, electric drills, hammers, and crowbars. The washing machine resisted all efforts. No matter what repairs, removal, or, eventually, demolition company we called, the washer refused to be harmed, moved, or opened. We eventually gave up and purchased a new washer, but to this day, the old one refuses to move.

So you can imagion just how great my suprise was when, as I was hurtling towards it, the impenitrable washing machine opened and a man proceeded to climb out of it. Or rather, attempted to climb out of it. Before he could get more then one leg out of the washer, I crash-landed on top of him with a

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and forced him back inside.


End file.
